


Cat Chat

by CrunchyWrites



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 00:01:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16775578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrunchyWrites/pseuds/CrunchyWrites
Summary: For the Widomauk Discord winter exchange! Prompt:Caleb has to bring Frumpkin in for a regular check up at the vet’s office, and while there he meets the new receptionist and vet’s assistant: One very colorful and handsome young man with purple hair and a terrible sense of humor.





	Cat Chat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MoonyBandit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonyBandit/gifts).



> Okay, so I didn't quite manage to get the 'terrible sense of humour' bit, but otherwise I hope you like it!

Because Caleb has apparently been cursed by the gods themselves, the day that he has to bring Frumpkin to the vets for his yearly check up is, naturally, the same day that the coffee machine breaks, the milk goes out of date, and he has to spend 10 minutes scraping ice off his car as Frumpkin makes countless attempts to escape from his carry case, thwarted only by Nott sitting down on top of it.

All in all, it’s not the best way to start a day, but it’s also not the worst. Despite the ice coating his car, it’s actually a very pretty winter’s morning, and the roads themselves don’t look to be too slippery, with most of the moisture overnight having held its shape as frost. The grass beneath Caleb’s feet crunches pleasantly as he crosses the tiny front yard and lets himself back into the house, collecting Frumpkin and saying goodbye to Nott before leaving. He burrows down as deep as he can into his scarf as he crosses back to his car, but he can’t resist poking his face out of its encompassing warmth just once to breathe out into the chilly air. His breath hangs in a tiny cloud for a few seconds, sparkling in the weak winter sunlight. Caleb smiles to himself. It’s pretty. The air around him is freezing, and he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that his car is going to be horribly fogged up for a good while, but it’s pretty. Winter is pretty.

Winter is pretty, and Frumpkin clearly has no appreciation for it; after a few seconds of Caleb standing around, enjoying the frost-laden landscape around him, he lets out a loud, disgruntled meow.

Caleb sighs and opens the car.

“Sorry,” he mutters, reaching over to place Frumpkin’s carry case down on the passenger seat. “I know you do not like the cold.” He gets in, does up his seatbelt, and after a moment reaches over to the passenger seat and buckles a seatbelt across the carry case. “The car will be warm soon,” he promises, patting the top of the case before reaching over to the car’s controls and turning on the heat. The car makes a noise almost as disgruntled as Frumpkin’s meow, but thankfully it doesn’t take too long for the rushing flow of air to turn warm, chasing the condensation off the windows and encouraging Caleb to partially leave his scarf-cocoon. He waits just until he can see through the window and then sets off, driving the familiar route into town and towards the vets.

For a handful of long minutes, there is only silence. And then, just as he starts to approach the clinic, from inside the carry case there comes the sound of a soft, plaintive meow.

Caleb sighs. “ _Ja, ja_ , I know,” he mutters. “I am a horrible owner for taking you to the vet for your yearly check-up.”

The basket mews again.

“I am a horrible owner for making sure that you do not get sick.”

Another mew.

“I am a horrible owner for daring to care about my cat and for planning to make it up to him by giving him wet food tonight, and by letting him sleep on my bed.”

The basket meows again. This time, somehow, it doesn’t sound _quite_ as annoyed. Caleb smiles to himself, taking one hand off the wheel to reach over and give the case a quick pat. It doesn’t meow again, falling silent as Caleb parks the car just round the corner from the Moondrop Veterinary Clinic. He tugs his scarf up and over his mouth before grabbing Frumpkin’s case and stepping out of the car, quickly walking the short distance between his car and the clinic. It’s not a long walk, but even with his coat, and scarf, and sweater, Caleb can feel the cold starting to burrow beneath his layers, and he doesn’t dare to lower his scarf until he’s standing before the door to the clinic.

He reaches out, feeling his fingers almost go numb just from touching the metal door handle, and pushes open the door. The little bell above the door jingles merrily as the warmth of the building’s interior curls around his shoulders, pushing away the chill of the winter breeze outside. The sharp smell of antiseptic tickles at the back of his throat, threatening to make him sneeze for a moment, but the feeling quickly passes as Caleb approaches the counter. He can’t quite make out the individual behind it – they’re hunched over a computer, tapping away at a keyboard and absently humming along to the music playing softly through the speakers. All Caleb can see is dark skin and a head of dark purple, artfully plaited hair that looks like it would fall past the individual’s shoulders if it wasn’t tied back in an elaborate braid.

He waits for a few moments more, wondering if they’re simply engaged in some small admin task and will get to him as soon as they’re done. But when a few moments have passed and it appears that they still haven’t noticed him, he leans in a little and gently clears his throat.

The individual’s head shoots up immediately.

“Oh!” they say. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t hear you walk in.”

Caleb opens his mouth to answer, and absolutely nothing comes out.

The man behind the desk is… well, he’s _stunning_. There’s no other way to describe him. He’s absolutely gorgeous, and just looking at him is making Caleb’s heart do funny things, like try to pick up and skip a beat all at the same time. His dark purple hair is actually a medley of shades, ranging from dark indigo through violet with tiny hints of lavender and lilac scattered throughout; the end result is mesmerising, even when it’s tied back. The man’s skin is smooth and dark, with a twisting splay of peacock feathers tattooed onto one cheek; Caleb thinks he can see them running down the side of his face, vanishing beneath the soft blue scrubs that he’s wearing. His eyes are dark and warm, highlighted by a single line of dark teal on his upper lids, and though he only wears a single pair of mismatched stud earrings, Caleb thinks he can see marks of yet more piercings scattered across his ears.

All in all, it’s terribly distracting.

Handsome Receptionist Man falls silent, and it’s only then that Caleb realises that he missed something. _Oh, Scheisse_.

“Could- can you repeat that?” he manages to say, feeling himself flush slightly.

The receptionist gives a small, barely audible laugh. “I asked you what your name is.”

Caleb collects himself for long enough to answer. “Caleb. Uh, Caleb Widogast.”

“ _Caleb Widogast_. Nice name,” Handsome Receptionist Man remarks absently, shooting Caleb a much too charming smile before turning his attention to the computer screen before him. Caleb feels his insides twist a little. It’s much too early for him to handle a handsome receptionist man telling him that he’s got a nice name in a much, _much_ too gorgeous voice. “And what’s your friends name?” Handsome Receptionist Man continues.

Caleb frowns. “My… friend?”

“In the basket.”

“Oh! Frumpkin.”

“Frumpkin,” Handsome Receptionist Man repeats. He taps away at the keyboard, humming quietly. “Ah! There you are! 10am appointment with Dr Clay.” He looks up at Caleb with a smile. For a moment, the light catches on the small sun and moon piercings in his ears, making them shine silver and gold on either side of his face. He looks lovely. He looks very lovely.

Caleb should probably sit down.

“Uh,” he says eloquently.

Handsome Receptionist Man smiles wider. “Take a seat,” he says, gesturing to the row of hard plastic chairs pushed up against the far wall. “Dr Clay will call you through when he’s ready to see you.”

“Right,” Caleb mumbles to himself. “I will- yes. I’ll do that. Thank you.”

“Of course. You’ve got any questions, just let me know. I’d be more than happy to help you.” Handsome Receptionist Man flashes Caleb another smile, and Caleb swears he feels his ears turn red. Hopefully the lingering pinkness from being out in the frost and snow will be enough to mask his frankly ridiculous reaction. He nods again, mustering a weak smile in return, and then moves to take a seat. The plastic squeaks slightly beneath him as he sits down, placing Frumpkin’s case down on the empty seat next to him. There’s a lot of empty seats. The waiting area is entirely abandoned, in fact; Caleb can faintly hear the sound of quiet conversation coming from behind a small door beside the reception, but that’s it. It’s a quiet little clinic and it seems that, right now, he and Handsome Receptionist Man are the only people in the room.

Above the desk, a clock ticks away. The _tick_ and _tock_ seem almost uncomfortably loud in the otherwise silent room; even Frumpkin is soundless, sitting quietly within his carry case as Caleb feels himself grow more and more uncomfortable.

He swallows.

“So,” he says weakly, and immediately wants to hit himself. _Gods_. What the hell is he doing? How the hell did he think that awful, terrible smalltalk would be better than just sitting in silence? He’s sat in silence before; he can do it again. Why now does he suddenly want to _talk_?

Behind the desk, Handsome Receptionist Man sits upright.

“Hm?” he hums, glancing over towards Caleb. “Did you have a question, love?”

Gods. _Gods_. Of course he can’t just be an attractive man with a lovely voice - he’s got to use endearments too. Caleb feels himself flushing a little, even though he knows that endearment didn’t actually mean anything. He’s just tired, and single, and Handsome Receptionist Man is _very_ handsome.

He knows what he should do now, though. He should shake his head, and mutter something about how actually he’s fine, and then he should distract himself with reading one of the magazines set out on the little table until he can flee into the safety of the examination room.

He doesn’t do that, though. He doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he jerks his head towards the window, summons a pitiful smile, and says, “So… it is cold out, _ja_?”

It’s terrible. It’s pathetic.

It makes Handsome Receptionist Man smile.

“I mean, I suppose you could say that,” he says. He half-turns on his seat, leaning forwards to rest his arms on the reception desk counter. “I had to spend _ages_ scraping ice off my car this morning.”

Caleb can’t stop his little smile. “I did too. I was a bit worried I was going to be late.”

Handsome Receptionist Man gives a short laugh. “Darling, I think you’ve been the most punctual client I’ve ever seen. You’ve got a good twenty minutes until your appointment.”

“I know,” Caleb says, shrugging, “but it never hurts to be somewhere early.”

“I suppose not. That’s something I probably need to learn. I always seem to end up running late - I left early today because I knew it would be icy, and I _still_ only barely got here on time!”

Caleb snorts a short laugh. “ _Ja_ , well, I am only really so early because my coffee machine broke.”

Handsome Receptionist Man gives a little gasp. “No!”

“ _Ja_.”

“This morning?”

“Mhmm.”

“That’s awful. Gods, I can’t imagine facing the weather out there without coffee.”

Caleb shrugs. “ _Ja_ , well, you know, I had to bring Frumpkin in.”

Handsome Receptionist Man nods understandingly. “Powering through the cold for the good of your cat. That’s very respectable, Mr. Caleb.”

“Well, it was necessary.”

“Mm.” Handsome Receptionist Man gives a small hum of understanding, and the two of them then lapse into silence. It’s less uncomfortable this time, Caleb feels. The clock is still ticking out loud and clear but the sound of it doesn’t sound quite so lonely now, and after a few more minutes Handsome Receptionist Man suddenly speaks up again. “... Do you want a cup of coffee?”

Caleb glances up. “... _Was_?”

Handsome Receptionist Man jerks his head to the back of the area behind the reception desk. “We have a little kitchenette,” he explains, “with a coffee maker. And you look cold, and the coffee isn’t amazing but it’s warm, so… yeah.”

...Well, Caleb’s hardly going to say no. “I’d love a cup of coffee,” he admits, smiling slightly. “But I do not wish to distract you from your work…”

“Hardly,” Handsome Receptionist Man says, standing up from his desk. He stretches a little; Caleb can suddenly see what looks to be a snake tattoos curling down his arm, adorned with countless beautifully inked flowers. “These days are always quiet, and I’ll be back at my post in just a couple of minutes.” He shoots a wink at Caleb. “I trust you’ll cover for me?”

“I can do that,” Caleb agrees, smiling slightly.

“Marvellous. Then sit tight and I’ll be right back. Any milk or sugar?”

“No, thank you.”

“Dark and strong?”

_And hot_ , Caleb’s mind adds usefully, his gaze still lingering on the ink on Handsome Receptionist Man’s skin. “Uh,” he says, managing to pull his gaze away. “Uh, ah, _ja_.”

“I’ll be back in just a tick, then,” Handsome Receptionist Man says, before turning and disappearing through a door behind the desk. He returns a few minutes later as promised, a paper cup in hand. Caleb stands, hearing Frumpkin give a questioning _mew_ from beside him, and crosses to the reception desk where Handsome Receptionist Man passes the cup to him with a smile.

“One coffee,” he says. Caleb takes it gratefully, feeling their fingers brush for just a moment.

“ _Danke_ ,” he replies, and lifts the cup to his lips to take a sip. “Oh!”

Handsome Receptionist Man grins. “Surprisingly good, right?”

Caleb nods, taking another sip. The coffee burns the roof of his mouth slightly, but it’s _good_ , brightening his mind and warming him down to his bones, although that last bit might have something to do with how close he is to Handsome Receptionist Man; they’re a few scant inches away, separated only by the low wall of the reception desk. “This is good,” he mutters. He glances up, blue eyes meeting grey, and makes a quick decision. “I will have to pay you back at some point,” he says, and lets his smile and tone just start to edge into flirtatious.

It’s hard to tell, but Caleb thinks he sees Handsome Receptionist Man blush a little.

“Oh,” he says. Caleb smiles, taking another sip. “I- alright. How were you planning on doing that?”

Caleb shrugs. “I will have to get you a surprisingly good coffee at some point,” he says lightly, hiding his own flush behind the cup. “If you- if you are amenable, that is.” He’s heard a lot about people being hit on at work and how impossible it is to escape. He doesn’t want to be that creep.

Thankfully, Handsome Receptionist Man doesn’t seem to mind it in the slightest; he smiles right back at Caleb, his eyes quickly darting over him. “Oh, I think I’ll be amenable,” he replies, with a slight purr to his voice that makes Caleb choke on his coffee for a second.

“Great,” Caleb wheezes, coughing a little. “That’s- great.” There’s the sound of a door opening and closing from beside the desk, followed by the soft thumping of paws, but Caleb doesn’t look away from Handsome Receptionist Man until he feels someone drawing up next to the desk. He glances over, catching sight of a tall, fine-featured woman with dark hair hanging in a braid over one shoulder.

“Oh,” Handsome Receptionist Man says. Caleb might be imagining it, but he thinks he hears his voice lose some of its casual warmth, becoming immediately calmer and more professional. “I take it you’re all done with Trinket?”

“We are,” the lady replies. Caleb steps back, still sipping at his coffee, and takes his seat again, watching as the lady and Handsome Receptionist Man talk for a few moments before the lady pays and leaves, her massive, bear-like dog padding softly at her heels.

For a moment, all is quiet again. Caleb finishes his coffee, fidgeting with his cup before Handsome Receptionist Man indicates a small covered bin in the corner of the room. Caleb disposes of his cup and is just turning around to sit back down when the door through the examination room swings open.

“Mr. Widogast?” calls a deep, calm voice.

Caleb looks over, making eye contact with a tall, pale man, his pink hair neatly tied back and out of the way. Dr. Clay, Caleb assumes.

Dr. Clay smiles at him. “Time for Frumpkin’s check-up.”

\---

Frumpkin’s check-up goes smoothly enough, right up until the end. Dr. Clay weighs Frumpkin, checking his heart, lungs, claws, ears, and all the other bits that need checked, and pronounces him to be in perfect health, making Caleb feel a small burst of pride.

“Although,” Dr. Clay says, just as Caleb is about to usher Frumpkin back into his carry case, “Frumpkin is due for a booster vaccination.”

Caleb nods. He can’t remember exactly when Frumpkin needs his booster shots, but this time feels about right. “Alright,” he says. “Would you like me to hold him still?”

“Oh, that’d be great,” Dr. Clay replies. He crosses to a small cupboard on the wall, unlocking it and searching through it as Caleb crouches down, trying to lure Frumpkin out of the corner that he’d bolted to the moment Dr. Clay had let go of him.

“Frumpkin,” he says, holding out a hand. Frumpkin presses further back into the corner, ears pressed flat to his skull, and Caleb sighs. “ _Frumpkin_ ,” he repeats. “Frumpkin, _bitte_.”

“You alright there?” asks Dr. Clay.

“Absolutely fine.”

“You want me to call in another pair of hands? Have someone else around to help you keep hold of him?”

It’s a tempting offer. Caleb remembers what it was like the last time he took Frumpkin to get vaccinated, and how many scratches he’d ended up with. He stands up, giving Dr. Clay a small smile. “Please.”

Dr. Clay gives him a slow smile. “Sure thing,” he says. He crosses to the door that he’d entered the examination room through - the one that Caleb knows connects to the area behind the reception desk - and, moving carefully so as to not give Frumpkin an avenue of exit, cracks it open and sticks his head out. “Molly? Mollymauk?” There’s a small, muffled sound. It sounds somewhat familiar. “Oh, yeah. I was just wondering if you could come help this fella out with his cat? Lend us an extra pair of hands for a little while, keep things a bit easier.” There’s another sound. “Wonderful.” Dr. Clay leans back, giving Caleb a smile. “He’ll be here in just a second,” he says, stepping back into the examination room.

Caleb smiles back. “Thank you,” he says, and it’s at that exact moment that Handsome Receptionist Man steps in after Dr. Clay.

Except- not Handsome Receptionist Man. He has a name now.

_Molly_.

“Alright,” Molly says briskly, rubbing his hands together. “Where’s the culprit?”

“He’s in the corner,” Dr. Clay replies, returning to the cupboard. Molly nods, looking determined, and then glances over at Caleb.

“How do you feel about bribes?” he asks.

Caleb frowns. “Bribes?”

“Bribes,” Molly repeats. He reaches into his pocket, withdrawing a small packet of cat treats. “They work wonders a lot of the time. I just wanted to check that it’s okay for me to give one to Frumpkin. He’s not on any special diet or anything?”

Caleb shakes his head. “No, no, Frumpkin is fine to have treats.”

“Brilliant.” Molly cracks the packet open and immediately Frumpkin turns to look at him, his eyes wide. Molly shakes the packet a little. “Smell these?” he asks, directing all his attention towards Frumpkin, “Do you want one?” He glances over at Caleb, holding the packet out to him. “You take them. He’ll respond better to his owner.”

Caleb takes the packet, and completely ignores how his fingers brush against Molly’s. “Alright,” he says. He crouches down, holding the packet out a little, and gives it a little shake.

It doesn’t take long after that for Caleb to grab onto Frumpkin. Molly feeds him a treat to keep him distracted as Caleb gathers him up, standing upright so that Dr. Clay can approach with the prepared vaccination.

“Good boy,” Molly coos, petting Frumpkin’s head as Dr. Clay quickly injects him. Frumpkin hisses quietly but the sound soon dissolves back into purring as Molly changes his angle, scratching him under the chin. “Yeah, there you go, that’s a good boy.”

“He seems to like you,” Caleb remarks. He shifts one arm, gently scritching Frumpkin’s flank as Dr. Clay withdraws the syringe, the unpleasant process over and done with. “He’s normally much unhappier than this.”

“I have magic powers,” Molly replies absently.

“Do you?”

“Oh, absolutely. I can enchant any cat I come across.” He looks at Caleb with a blinding grin, still petting Frumpkin. “Even really grumpy ones.”

Caleb raises a disbelieving eyebrow but he can feel himself smiling all the same. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm.”

“I don’t suppose these magic powers would have anything to do with the cat treats you just so happened to have in your pocket?”

Molly gasps. “ _Caleb_! I can’t believe you’re doing this, spreading my secrets after I trusted you with them.”

“You gave me a bag of cat treats,” Caleb replies dryly.

“I gave you an _essential spell component_ ,” Molly corrects. He’s still grinning, though, and he doesn’t stop smiling, even when Dr. Clay announces that the checkup is complete and ushers Molly out of the room and back to his desk. Caleb watches him leave with a smile. Molly is nice. He’s very nice. He’s nice, and he’s good with cats, and he’s funny, and he made Caleb coffee, and he’s almost distractingly good-looking.

No, correction: he _is_ distractingly good-looking, as Caleb realises when he jumps nearly a foot in the air when Dr. Clay says his name, startling him out of his Mollymauk-induced daze.

“Hm?” he says eloquently, looking up at the tall doctor.

Dr. Clay smiles at him. “I said,” he says, “that you can put Frumpkin back in his carry case now. Molly will take your payment at the desk.”

“Oh!” Caleb says. “Oh, _ja_ , of course.” It takes a little while, but he soon has Frumpkin back in the carry case. Caleb leaves the room with a polite goodbye to Dr. Clay, and Dr. Clay returns it with an altogether almost too-knowing smile. It’s a little unsettling, honestly. The smile gives the impression that Dr. Clay was aware of every single thought towards Molly that went through Caleb’s head during Molly’s time in the examination room. Caleb’s not sure how he feels about that.

He’s still mulling over it as he approaches the desk.

“You all done?” Molly asks with a smile. Caleb can feel himself smiling back.

“ _Ja_ , we are,” he says. He pays quickly, reminding himself to check when Frumpkin will next be due for a check up or vaccination - and hoping that Molly will be here again when he returns - and is about to leave when Molly quietly says his name.

“Caleb?”

Caleb blinks. “ _Ja_?”

Molly picks up a business card from a stack on them on the desk, quickly scribbling something onto it. “Do you want a business card?” he asks innocently, not looking up.

Caleb frowns. “I… I already have your contact details,” he says, more than a little confused.

“Mm, you do. I’m sure you’re already aware of how to contact us to book an appointment,” Molly replies. He finishes off his writing and holds the card out to Caleb; along one edge of it, Caleb can see a line of numbers. “But if you wanted to, for example, organise a time and date to pay me back for the coffee from earlier, then you might need this additional number.”

“Oh.” _Oh_.

“No pressure if not, though,” Molly continues. “Just thought I’d mention that-”

“No!” Caleb says quickly. He sticks his hand out, taking the card from Molly. “No, this is- I would- _ja,_ I would like this card, Mollymauk.” He scans over the numbers, immediately committing them to memory. “I would- _ja_. Yes. Thank you.”

“Oh.” Molly looks at Caleb in silence for a few moments, a slight flush colouring his cheeks, and then he smiles. “Oh! Alright then.” He sits back, still smiling widely. “Well. Do get in touch, Caleb. We’ll let you know when you’ll next need to bring Frumpkin in for a check-up.”

“Yes,” Caleb replies, still reeling a little. He has Molly’s number. Molly _gave_ him his number. “I will- yes. Thank you very much.”

“Drive safely, Caleb.”

“I will do my best.”

“Have a good day.”

“You too.”

Caleb stands in place for a few moments longer, taking in Molly’s eyes, and tattoos, and hair. It’s only when he hears the soft jingling of the bell above the door that announces the arrival of another client that he turns and leaves.

In the safety of his car, he draws Molly’s card out from his pocket and looks over the numbers again. Suffice it to say, he was not expecting Frumpkin’s vet appointment to end like this.

He’s also definitely _not_ complaining.

\---

Caleb spends the rest of the day as he does most days, getting work done, eating lunch, and generally keeping himself busy until the evening rolls around. He doesn’t forget Molly’s card. He can feel it in his pocket, constantly drawing his attention back to the line of numbers, and by the time he’s eaten dinner, he’s made up his mind.

He’s going to call Molly.

He eats quickly, leaving the dishes in the sink for later, and then retreats upstairs to his bedroom. Frumpkin follows him, jumping up on the bed and curling up on his lap as Caleb pulls his phone free from his pocket.

Phone in one hand, card in the other, Caleb swallows his nerves, dials the number, and hits ‘call’.

A few seconds later, the phone is picked up.

“ _Hello?”_

It’s Molly. It’s undeniably Molly. Caleb can feel himself smiling already; he leans back against his pillows, glad that Molly isn’t around to see his ridiculous smile. “ _Hallo_ , Molly.”

“ _Oh, Caleb! Hey!”_

“How, uh, how are you?”

Molly laughs quietly. “ _I’m wonderful, darling. All the better for hearing your voice.”_

_Gods._ Caleb’s going to die if Molly keeps this up. “I- ah… thank you.”

“ _You’re very welcome. Can I ask why you’re calling?”_

Caleb takes a breathe. “I… ah… I was wondering if you happened to be free this weekend,” he says quickly, fiddling absently with a loose thread in his cardigan. “So that- so that I could pay you back. For the coffee.”

There’s a small gasp on the other end of the line. When Molly replies, he sounds absolutely delighted. “ _As it so happens, I am free then.”_

“Oh!” Caleb exclaims. “That’s- good! That is good.”

Molly laughs quietly. The connection ruins it a little, turning the sound halfway to static, but it sounds lovely all the same. Caleb wants to hear it in person. “ _Did you have somewhere in mind, Caleb_?”

Caleb quickly wracks his brain. “There is, ah, The Invulnerable Vagrant? Or Gilmore’s? Or if you have a suggestion, I would love to hear it.”

“ _Gilmore’s is fine by me, darling_.”

Darling. _Darling_. Caleb feels his toes curling at the sound of it. “So, Gilmore’s,” he says, “on Saturday. I am free all day, so…”

“ _I like the sound of Saturday_ ,” Molly says quickly, his voice warm and delighted. “ _I like- yeah. Yeah. Saturday is good. Say 12? We could get lunch_.”

“Coffee and lunch,” Caleb agrees. He can feel his wide grin, can feel his slight blush. He doesn’t care. “I- _ja_ , that sounds good. That sounds really good.”

_“Great! Although… Caleb?”_

_“Ja?”_

_“I just wanted to be clear…”_ Molly trails off, sounding a little unsure. Caleb frowns. “ _You meant this as a- this is a date, right? Because it sounds like a date; I just want to check that it is._ ”

Caleb smiles. Beyond his window he can see snow drifting down in thick, downy flakes. He thinks about meeting Molly in the snow, about walking with him to the coffee shop, about waiting and gauging his reaction. He thinks about maybe, just maybe, reaching out to take Molly’s hand and feeling his snow-chilled fingers pressing against his own.

He thinks about kissing Moly in the snow.

He thinks he’ll like that very much.

“Yes,” he says, “definitely as a date.”


End file.
